Lunchtime in Pittsburgh Then Dinner in Paris
by hogan macgyver
Summary: On a slow week Carter asks what Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania is like. The conversation goes down-hill from there and ends up talking about French cuisine. A short from Carter's POV.  re-advised


**If it's Lunchtime in Pittsburgh Then There's Dinner in Paris**

_I do not own Hogan's Heroes, I just write about them._

_Please keep that in mind I did this for fun and it's nonprofit._

_Don't forget to tell me what you think._

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><p>"What was it like in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania?" I asked suddenly. Breaking the silence of the card game that I was playing with my pals in Barracks 2. It was one of those days when we didn't have anything else left to do.<p>

"Why do you want to know, Carter?" Kinch replied as he sorted the cards in his hand.

I shrugged "Just thought I'd ask. I've never been there before."

"Anybody need another card?" Newkirk piped up.

Kinch and I shook our heads no.

"One for moi," LeBeau said. The Englishman passed him a new playing card and LeBeau added it the the rest of the ones that he had.

"That's kind of an odd question ain't it Carter?" Newkirk commented and took a puff on his cigarette.

"I fold," Kinch said, putting his cards face down on the table.

"Kinda has a nice ring to it. Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I always wanted to say I had lunch there," I responded with a wave of my hand.

"Pittsburgh? That is a name of a town?" LeBeau said in a confused voice.

"City. It's known for steel and being very smoggy," Kinch informed him. He was over by the stove now, pouring a fresh cup of coffee for himself.

"Who would name a city that? Now Paris on the autre hand-"

"Spoken like a true Frenchman," Newkirk teased this short friend.

"And what's wrong with Paris?" LeBeau demanded.

"Well, what they serve for dinner for one thing. Frog's legs. Snails. Ugh. It's just not decent," Newkirk said with a shiver.

"I fold, too," I mumbled and went to sit on my bunk.

Colonel Hogan came out of his room and walked over to us. "What's going on? And why is Carter turning a sickly shade of green?" he inquired.

"Not a whole lot, Colonel. Carter asked about Pittsburgh and we some how ended up talking about eating frog's legs," Kinch said with a shake of his head.

"Carter are you feeling alright?" Colonel Hogan asked me worriedly.

"Not really, sir. Did you hear what the French eat? Those poor little frogs and I know snails are slimy, but gosh." I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to forget about the previous conversation.

The Colonel rolled his eyes. "How you guys managed to get so far off topic is beyond me. We really need to do some sort of sabotage job to avoid another one of these bizarre conversations." He came over and sat next to me on the bunk-bed.

"To answer your question, Carter. Pittsburgh is very smoggy because of the steel and coal factories-" Hogan started to say.

"Beggin' your pardon, sir, but Kinch already said that," Newkirk informed him.

The colonel glanced at Kinch, who nodded in agreement. "Well, other then that I honestly don't know much about it. I've never been there," Colonel Hogan shrugged.

"What kind of food do they have?" I asked. All the while hoping we'd start talking about normal American food.

"I suppose they have all sorts of things to eat," the Colonel answered. "Hotdogs, cheeseburgers, pizza. It's the good old U.S.A. after all. Not another planet."

"Pizza! Who would want to eat cardboard?" LeBeau pipped up.

"It's a 'ole lot better than snails," Newkirk retorted.

"Escargot," LeBeau corrected cooly. "And what your food is called has much to be desired."

"Wot's that supposed to mean?"

They were so carried away with arguing that they didn't notice Baker had come up for the tunnels and had given Colonel Hogan a message.

"What is it, colonel?" Kinch asked, setting down his coffee.

Colonel Hogan finished reading the note before answering. "It looks like the Underground has a job for us."

The two Europeans stopped their fight and glanced at him eagerly. I completely forgot about the food.

"Carter, what kind of timers do you have for the explosives?" the Colonel asked me.

"Boy- I mean sir, I've got all kinds. You just tell me what you want and I go get it, boy- sir," I said eagerly.

"Some long lasting timers would be the best," Colonel Hogan thought aloud.

I nodded quickly and ran ran down the tunnels. Now, we had something we could do.

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><p>Special thanks to Sgt. Moffitt and Marie1964 for the tips.<p> 


End file.
